Animate Customs
by scottie994
Summary: Following the storyline of 'Closer' and 'Sequel: The Twist'; a series of interrelated one-shots/drabbles chronicling Toshiro's life in the Human World with Karin. Ch. 2 - Soccer - It was times like these she swore he strived to piss her off on purpose.
1. Quitting

**A/N: **About time I post this.. to any of the readers who have followed the series 'Closer' and 'The Twist', I hope you enjoy this new instalment, and to you readers who haven't, feel free to check the prequels out. However, it isn't fundamental for this, unless you want to read how Toshiro and Karin met.. and got together.. and such.

This one-shot came to mind while I was writing the sequel, prompting the project, so I saw it fitting to post first. Hope you enjoy!

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**Disclaimer!:_ I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material._**

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**Kick-Off Prompt : Quitting**

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"ARGH!"

The frustrated groan echoed about the apartment just as loud and abrupt as it had several times that morning. And if he were to recount, the previous seven mornings as well. Not that he'd ever been accustomed to quiet mornings, what with Matsumoto running around his office and the tenth's barracks, wreaking overly enthused havoc in a permanently half-drunken stupor, but _this_, was just ridiculous.

Though, he hadn't been stupid enough to voice such a notion, and had merely been trailing his thumb along the rim of his coffee mug whilst the bitter liquid trembled with each low _thud_ of various belongings being thrown about the small apartment and every angry _stomp_ of size five feet stalking about on the hardwood floor, typically silent as he observed his unfathomably temperamental girlfriend.

"God fucking dammit! Where is it?!"

He heaved an inward sigh as she essentially cursed the heavens, but simply remained seated on the high bar stool, broad back against the counter and teal gaze set on her rear-end as she crawled on all fours around the living room, her work uniform barely concealing the black garb underneath. And as his attention became further absorbed in her unwitting seduction in a 'so close yet so far away' manner, the heightening of his own frustrations roared with petty vexation; this was also something he'd been sensible enough to leave out of conversation, if only for the sake of not getting beaten to a bloody pulp.

That, and also, he had a reserve to maintain. One that didn't permit uttering the words 'sexually frustrated' out loud. Especially not to _her_. Even if, in his opinion, it was completely called for; it wasn't as if he based their relationship around sex–no, of course not, though it was difficult not to, considering it had begun with such an act and she had spoiled him in that area remarkably ever since, but he just couldn't help it. He'd been living in the Human World for nearly two months now, and for the most part (the first six and half weeks, he noted), he'd had a rather consistent sex life. The twenty-one year-old girl was passionate in all things, after all. And while he may have been less than pleased when she became 'passionate' about things such as yelling at the television and urging him to taste-test her latest dinner concoction even after giving him food poisoning the first time, he never once complained in terms of her spirited sex-drive.

In fact, he took extensive advantage of it. As he had been negligent of physical acts for an indefinite amount of decades, and at his first taste of is three years before, he'd been akin to that of a horny teenager. And in addition to that, since that blissful night ten odd weeks before when the thirty-six-month-long chagrin of depravity had been abated and turned to the opposing state, they hadn't really...stopped; they did many things together, all of which were mental-diary worthy, but in majority, they did each other. Thoroughly, and often.

Or at least they did until a week prior to today, when she'd abruptly projected a 'don't fucking touch me' demeanor and successfully incited the formerly jilted frustration to return. However, it wasn't exactly the lack of intimacy that sparked such dismay; he was a little more mature than that. No, it was, in a higher regard, due to the unbearable attitude that had accompanied her new found rigidness.

Sure, he'd been drawn by her temper, been even more intrigued by the lovely personality underneath and with several other quirks had fallen in love with her. But such dear affections were being, as of late, overshadowed by her repellant disposition. And he really, to a 'begging on his hands and knees' degree, wanted his compelling and partially sweet girlfriend back, instead of the demonic being that had taken over her entrancing self.

It's not the time of the month, he ruled soundly, as he'd been briefly educated in that regard in a minute of awkwardness just weeks before and had been subconsciously aware of such happenings ever since, and with that utmost certain discernment, he only became more puzzled; what could have possibly happened to make her so derailed?

It was the million-dollar question, so as he watched her strut around, the light blue skirt of her waitress costume flapping furiously about her legs at mid-thigh length, he pondered, curiously recounting the days before the mood change. And eventually, after not much in-depth thinking, it came to him.

"Ugh! I can't find it!"

"Can't find what?"

Her features twisted even further in annoyance as she shot him a glare, replying rather irately, "My name tag!"

"Is it really that important?" he inquired flatly, stifling an exasperated exhale. And if it were possible, her glare magnified.

"Yes, Toshiro!" she snapped. "It is that important!" Minutely back in the kitchen area, she began searching through the cupboards and drawers once again, explaining frantically, "If I go to work without my name tag again, I'll get scolded and put on kitchen duty!" Yet another_ slam_ sounded as wood met wood, singing the fact that she wouldn't find her name tag in the cupboard before he could even say it himself. "Then I'll get yelled at even more because I can't cook to save my fucking life, and then I'll probably get fired!"

"I think you're being a little overdramatic."

That remark was instantly regretted when he fell victim to her glower once again, and he nearly shuddered. Yet, he retained his coolness, as well as his boldness, and when she wordlessly proceeded back to the bedroom, he swiftly placed himself in front of her. She promptly scowled at him, but before she could yell or shove him aside, he combed the frazzled black tresses back from her face, gentle fingertips fleeting over her temples.

"Karin," he drew out, looking at her intently, "you have to calm down."

Merely biting her lip, she stared up at him, ashy irises quaking with attempted restraint. While in turn, he summoned his most charming smirk, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Is this really about your missing name tag," Toshiro prompted subtlety. "Or is it because you haven't had a cigarette in over a week?"

It wasn't a question but a statement, as it was the only logical explanation for such unnecessary rage, and with a slight slump of her petite frame, she confirmed his suspicions, "It's killing me!" and a pitiably pout broke her frown. "I have no way to relieve my stress!"

A blanched brow rose then, cerulean depths dancing unreadably. "You need a way to relieve your stress?" She simply nodded, and his smile suddenly morphed into a suggestive grin. "How much time do you have until your shift?" he asked, cool tone betraying nothing.

"Ten minutes..." Her brow furrowed at his expression. "Why?"

"That's more than enough time," he commented coolly, ignoring her inquiry as he began leading her to the bedroom, lust and vehemence already too levelled to deny another second.

.

.

.

"Karin…" his husky voice sounded between steadying breaths, and she only managed a 'mhm' of acknowledgement, too relaxed amidst the disgruntled bed linens for full coherency. "Your name tag had been pinned on your dress all morning."


	2. Soccer

**A:N: **Just want to put it out there that I'm open to prompt suggestions, so feel free to PM me or leave one in a review.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and followed/favourited, much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this next one!

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**Disclaimer!: _I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material._**

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**002. Soccer**

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It was an interesting beverage: iced coffee.

Karin had introduced it to him a couple weeks ago during one of their lunch dates, and since then, he'd been rather addicted. It met his essential needs, both energizing _and_ cooling him off, all at once, all with a single consumption.

And he had taken to indulging at least four or five times a day.

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"God dammit!"

Predictable it was, upon returning from his third trip to the cafe across the street, that he should hear those three irately toned syllables. Yet, his brow creased with curiosity nonetheless, and he promptly made the short distance from the door to the living room, iced coffee in hand.

"Pass the damn ball, you idiot!" Karin shouted at the television once again, and Toshiro let his focus drift to the screen, of which was broadcasting what he'd learned to be 'soccer', or 'football', as some seemed to call it. And with an inward sigh, he set his sights on her once more, as she sat on the sofa with blatant disregard of the various textbooks spread out before her, and more pointedly, ignorance of his presence, making him frown in disapproval.

"Karin?" He'd expected her to tense at his sudden address, but she merely gave a sound of acknowledgement, dark eyes never straying from the cable box before her. "What are you doing?" he tried again, anyway.

"Watching the game…" she stated the obvious. "Ugh! What the fuck was that?!" Arms thrown up in the air rather overdramatically–in his opinion–she glowered in disdain, obsidian depths sending daggers through the glass and figuratively wounding whomever had done wrong. While Toshiro merely sighed.

"I swear," Karin began, hand submerged in a bag of chips, "these guys aren't gonna be my favourite team much longer if they keep–" but her words were soon and abruptly hitched as the screen before her suddenly blacked out.

Her attention immediately snapped to the undoubted culprit, as he stood behind her with the TV remote in his hand, face impassive as he sipped his drink–the fact he hadn't gotten her anything only heightening her fury.

"Hey!" her eyes broadened fiercely, "What the hell are you doing?! The game was just about to turn around!" That wasn't exactly true, but she'd use it as means for an argument nonetheless, and in turn, he merely shrugged.

"You have to study," Toshiro stated bluntly, tossing the remote on a nearby armchair.

"Excuse me?!" Bolting up, she let all her books and pencils fall from her lap to floor in a sequence of _clatters_ and _thuds_, giving her audacious boyfriend the evil-eye all the while.

"Is that not what you've been saying all week?" he prompted, cocking a brow. "If I remember correctly, you have an essay due tomorrow and a midterm coming up next week. So I figure soccer," he gestured to the television, "can wait."

"But!–" she pointed a finger at her beloved electronic device, lip turning up into a nearly undeniable pout, "–the game-'

"Can wait."

Defeatedly, she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't even understand why you waste your time watching that, anyway," he continued, leaning against the counter as he swirled his cup.

"Because!" she was quick to defend, "It's an awesome and entertaining sport!"

"It's stupid."

Jaw dropping just a little, her eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

"Did I stutter?" Oh, how she wanted to punch that arrogant smirk off his face. "I said;_ soccer_, is _stupid_."

"Oh my…" Raising a hand to her chest in astonishment, she muttered in an exaggerated tone: "I don't even feel like I know you…"

"Oh, I think you know me better than anyone."

She met his coy smirk with a scowl, "Shut up!" He chuckled lightly, merely indulging his beverage. "Where do you get off, anyway? saying soccer is 'stupid'?"

"From the two minutes I spent watching it," he replied bluntly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "It's just a bunch of men running around, kicking a little inflated sphere to one another, and frankly, I see no point in it. Therefore, it's stupid."

There was a pregnant pause as she held his gaze, then, she heaved a sigh, "this just won't do…" Abandoning her position, she roamed the small leisure space, tapping a slender digit to her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…how do we solve this…" He simply stared at her, somewhat intrigued, and not a moment later, she snapped her fingers, as if she'd just had an epiphany. "I got it!"

It was on reflex that he followed her lead, and Toshiro soon found himself standing in the entryway of their bedroom, watching with furrowed brows as she rummaged through the closet. She carelessly threw heaps of clothes and other belongings he hadn't been aware they harbored about the room, and within the minute, he felt inclined to ask once again: "What are you doing?"

"Looking...for…" she strained both her voice and short stature to reach the object of her search on the top shelf, and with much effort, she finally acquired the 'little inflated sphere', "this."

Karin cast him a grin as she thrust it into his view, and he raised a skeptical brow, "...and why were you looking for that?"

"Because," she tucked the soccer ball under one arm and placed her free hand on her hip, eyes gleaming with glee, "you and I, are gonna play some soccer."

.

.

.

Regret befell her soon after; her pride couldn't take it. He was just so..._good_.

She should've known though. '_I'm what they call a prodigy; a genius, if you will. There are very few things I can't excel at quickly._' Oh, how true that declaration was. As, along with cooking, playing video games, the ways of the computer, and–ahem, _pleasurable relations_, it would seem he could add yet another thing to his expertise skill-set: sports.

And now, her competitive meter was at it's highest level whilst she scrambled about the field, body heat cranked to an excruciating temperature despite the crisp autumn air, and attempted with consistent failure to surpass the young ex-shinigami, whose heightened ego was palpable as he continued to exceed her; fueling their two hour long rivalry.

Sure, she'd gotten a considerable amount of goals in. But he just _had_ to up the scale with all his graceful kicks and inhumanely fast movements; he was comparable to the Flash, she mused, ultimately lessening her fondness for that particular Marvel hero.

And when he sent the ball towards the net once again, successfully tallying their score 16-20, all she could do was groan, whining childishly, "That's not fair!"

Toshiro shot her a smirk, too handsome for her current liking. "Do I detect a sore loser?"

"Shut up," she snapped, a scowl twisting her sweaty yet still fairly cute features. "You're supposed to let the girl win, y'know."

"Another rule in the Human World, I take?" His grin went unwavered as he approached her, hands finding refuge in his pockets once more. "I figured you'd want a fair game," he reasoned simply, shrugging. "Although, I have to say I'm a little disappointed. With all the hype you made about this, I thought you'd be a better opponent."

She scowled. "You make it sound like were sword fighting or something…" That would've been more to his tastes. "And in my defense, I haven't gotten much time in playing soccer these past few years, but I used to be very great. And someday, I'm going to beat you."

He smirked. "I look forward to it." Then, he nodded to the lone soccer ball in the distance, cocking a brow, "Wanna continue?"

"Nah…" she denied, shaking her head ever so slightly as she lowered herself to the ground, chest still heaving in exhaustion. "I'm good."

Reclining onto the grass, she heaved an appeased sigh, snuggling languidly into the earth. "Dead."

Toshiro sighed. "You're not dead."

"I'm dead," she insisted airily, adamantly lidding her gaze.

Merely rolling his eyes at her melodrama, he left her side to retrieve the ball and return it to it's mesh bag. And not a minute later, he was nudging her gently in the side with his foot, "Come on."

One sombre eye cracked open to regard him, and after a moment of consideration, she took his extended hand, head spinning sickeningly as she was speedily brought to her feet. "Take this," he said, holding her soccer bag out for her. And within the moment, a grin broke her feature, recognition of his motives setting instantly.

She briskly complied, and once she'd slung the strap over her shoulder, she mustered her remaining energy in order to jump on his back, embracing him with all four limbs. While in turn, Toshiro simply retained a firm grip around her legs, casually commencing the ten minute journey back home and inciting a further upturn of her lips.

Resting her head on his shoulder a moment later, Karin cast him a glance. "So...what do you think of soccer now?"

And after a brief spell, he replied with nonchalance: "It's alright…"


End file.
